the top of his lungs—I miss him so much.”
“Mmm…” Charlie ran her fingers through her tousled blond curls. “Just make sure you look after yourself as far as Reece is concerned. And read all the fine print on these documents you’re going to sign.”
“I will.” Lauren grinned at her friend.
“Let’s go out for supper, I don’t feel like cooking. There’s a divine Czech restaurant just down the road.”
“And neither of us will mention Reece Callahan’s name again. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Charlie. Nor did they.
Promptly at three o’clock the next afternoon, Lauren presented herself to Reece’s secretary. The October day had turned unexpectedly warm; her dress was a chic linen sheath in deep blue with long sleeves. Gold hoops that Wallace had given her for her eighteenth birthday swung at her lobes, and she’d pulled her hair back with a gold clip. Her makeup was dramatic, that and her dress making her eyes look almost indigo.
The secretary said pleasantly, “Mr. Callahan shouldn’t be too long, Miss Courtney—but he is running a little behind schedule.”
So she was to be kept waiting like a common supplicant? Like a patient at the dentist’s? Which was just how she felt: all her nerves on edge, dread like a lump in the pit of her stomach. Lauren said, “Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t mean to keep me waiting, Miss Riley. I’ll go straight in.”
“I don’t think—”
But Lauren was already opening Reece’s door. He was seated in front of his computer screen and looked up in annoyance. She said with warm intimacy, “Hello, darling—I knew you wouldn’t want me to sit outside…how are you?” Then, as she closed the door, she gave him a wicked grin, her voice going back to normal. “I should tell you that at the age of thirteen I planned to become the second Sarah Bernhardt. I could get to enjoy this.”
He said curtly, “The first thing you’d better learn is never to interrupt me when I’m working.”
“But, dearest,” she cooed, batting her artfully mascaraed lashes, “I’m your heart’s delight.”
For a split second Lauren thought she caught a flash of emotion deep in Reece’s eyes. But then it was gone. If indeed it had existed. He said sharply, “I mean it, Lauren.”
“What a dull life you must lead.”
He surged to his feet. He’d discarded his jacket and tie; his shirt, open at the throat, revealed a tangle of dark hair. “Let’s get something straight,” he said with dangerous softness. “I’m the one with the evidence about Wallace. So I get to call the shots.”
Her chin lifted mutinously. “I don’t like being told what to do.”
“Then you’d better learn fast.”
“I think you’re forgetting something, Reece—this is a reciprocal deal. You’ve got something I want and I’ve got something you want. So both of us get to call the shots.”
“There can’t be two bosses—that’s a basic corporate rule.”
“We’re not talking corporations, we’re talking love at first sight. Passion, adoration and lust.” She gave him a complacent smile. “The rules are different.”
“Certainly that’s your area of expertise.”
She flushed. “Let’s get something else straight. Right now. You can quit throwing my reputation in my face.”
“What’s that cliché? If the shoe fits…”
So angry she forgot all caution, Lauren blazed, “If you think for one minute that I’m going to let you walk all over me for eight consecutive days, you’d better think again. Because I’m not. No chance.”
“You look rather more than pretty when you’re angry,” he remarked. “How do you look when you’re making love?”
“You’ll never find out!”
“According to the media, you wouldn’t know how. To make love, I mean. You use a guy, milk him dry, then go on to the next one. Which can hardly be dignified by the word love.” He closed the distance between them, taking her by the shoulders with cruel strength, his eyes boring into hers. “What I don’t understand is how you can create works of art that breathe truth and morality from such a shoddy little soul. Or why, when you’re so extraordinarily talented, you play cheap sexual games to further your career.”
She flinched; in attacking her work, he was stabbing her where she was most vulnerable. She said fiercely, “I came here to sign a couple of documents, not to have my character torn to shreds by a man who wouldn’t recognize an emotion if it hit him in the face. Especially if that emotion was called love.”
As suddenly as he had seized her, Reece let her go. “You don’t have an answer for me, do you?”
“My character and my sculptures are entirely congruent.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
She said with sudden insight, “You know what your problem is? You’re not used to people contradicting you. Especially a woman. I bet you’re surrounded day and night by yes, sir, no, sir, whatever you say, sir. Very bad for you.”
“Whereas you’re surrounded by men who fall all over you, agreeing with every word you say just so long as they end up in your bed.”
Anger flicked along her nerves. She said amicably, “Reece, I’ll spell it out for you again. Please don’t spend the whole week harping on my love affairs—I have a low tolerance for boredom.”
“Is that a challenge, Miss Courtney?”
“It’s a statement of fact.”
“Frankly, I don’t care if you’re bored out of your skull the entire eight days. Just as long as you do what I say.” Reece pulled open a drawer and extracted two sheets of typescript. “Read this. There are two copies, one for each of us. I’ll get my secretary to witness our signatures.”
The document, in carefully worded legalese, said that Lauren Courtney would present herself in the public realm as Reece Callahan’s lover for a period of eight days, and would preserve total confidentiality about the contents of this agreement in perpetuity. In return, Reece Callahan contracted never to publish anything of any nature about Wallace Harvarson, stepfather of the aforesaid Lauren Courtney.
The language, while cumbersome, was clear. Lauren said steadily, “I’m ready to sign if you are.”
Reece folded the papers to hide the text and pressed a buzzer on his desk. A few moments later the secretary walked in. “I’d like you to witness our signatures, Shirley, please,” Reece said. “Lauren?”
Once she signed, she was committed. For a few seconds that felt like hours, Lauren stared at him blankly. Was she mad promising to live for over a week with a man who was the antithesis of everything she believed in? What did she really know about him? Maybe the moment she walked in the door of his condo, he’d fall on her. And what recourse would
